


A Body Edged With Soul: An Introspection

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived AGAIN, I Have NO Clue What This Is Supposed To Be, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4954027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>on a completely unrelated side note, uh *deciphers smudge on her hand* Kafka is at fault for this. Or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Body Edged With Soul: An Introspection

Castiel has managed quite a journey.

He breathes in.

His lungs expand and compress with the breath of life in a rhythm similar to his heart that beats, only slower, to provide the blood flow through his veins.

The air around him caresses his face, wisps of sun rays kiss his lips like only a lover would.

His once stiff shoulders are relaxed, now unburdened by the weight of the realms he had crossed on this wanderings.

The wind continues to play around him, over and under him, connecting his entire being with the rest of the world.

Through his skin the sun sends her blessing in the way of a gentle caress of a parent he might not have known in the course of his existence, but came to love anyway when he started to live among humans who taught him.

He learnt a new kind patience with the finite possibilities of languages so seemingly primitive but nonetheless capable of bringing a sting to his eyes, whispering words that escaped his throat around a lump when love was professed and taken away in an Italian city between two youths barely above the age of 13.

He learnt a new kind of loyalty, freely given by his own choice rather than incorporated and programmed into his existence. And he learnt of the pain it brought to be torn between loyalties he never thought he could question - nay, the _fault_ of even perceiving a possibility to ask, "Why?" was so alien to him: Then, ages ago, ages that had passed in the blink of an eye.

He has compressed his being into a tiny speck of dust under fingernails of things that might not even be considered to have hands or finger or nails. He had never noticed if he had hands or something of resemblance himself.

 

But all has been worth it; the pain, sadness, fear, hunger, the exposure to the elements - all has been worth it a thousand times over.

Because whatever he once was - a horrendous pulse of incomprehensible energy, too monumental to use words like _distance_ unless they are referring to light years or _height_ if one does not know how the universe looks from the outside - he has found the grandest of things, immeasurable on its own despite being, well considered being, minuscule to the things he once roamed among.

 

If he would be asked to do all of it time again, and again, and again, but each time more painful, he would be content to make the journey all over as long as he is to receive everything he has found at the end of this road.

He has found a place to stay, not only in the physical sense (although it is appreciated) but his being has found a soul to connect to, bypassing any boundaries supposedly in existence in this realm.

 

Castiel, venerable Prince of Tears and Solitude, magnificent Destroyer of Kings, honourable Eternal Watcher, chose to forfeit his calling when he became aware of it. 

Instead, he became Cas, a body edged with soul.  

Cas breathes out, and a smile curves his lips upwards. 


End file.
